


Falling into History

by thelaziesthufflepuff



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik, Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Temeraire Fusion, Genderswap, Other, basically self-indulgent headcanon WITH DRAGONS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:07:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3710872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelaziesthufflepuff/pseuds/thelaziesthufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a Temeraire/Tenipuri fusion. Think dragons and genderswap and historical au and snark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you think I can't think of any more AUs well you are wrong because DRAGONS are Always Relevant.  
> (also beware of torrential dragon feelings)
> 
> lady!tezuka gets a dragon

Tezuka stands at a respectable distance away from the platform, hands folded across her elbows. The air was thick with anticipation, and she could feel it, the excitement dancing on her skin, in her veins, as the crowd of aviators fought to keep calm, eyes never straying from obsidian egg sitting on the platform. Tezuka would have liked to get a better view, but she is here as a guest, and it would not do for her to obstruct the view of others who have a greater stake in the proceedings. She can see enough from her position; the egg has splotches of gold, reflecting the candlelight, its sheen obvious even without her eyeglasses.  

There are excited shouts coming from the front, which are then shushed by the older officials. The room holds its breath as the egg begins to shake once, then twice, and Tezuka watches enthralled, despite the ache in her feet from hours of standing, as a hairline crack begins to widen, and a piece of the eggshell starts to fall, followed by another and another and another, until what is left of an egg is now a dragon half the size of her mother’s rocking chair, black and green and terribly wet, stretching its wings, shaking them dry as it raised a curious eye to look at its audience.   

An expectant hush falls over the room as everyone’s eyes focuses on it, and on the young officer that steps forward with a bucket of raw fish. Tezuka’s nose wrinkles at the smell; Sanada did tell her that dragons ate raw meat, and she supposes that fish is perhaps a lot easier to come by than beef.

Sanada is standing a lot closer to the dragon than she is, but he’s not holding any meat; this is not his dragon to own. His egg is apparently still in the onsen, as it has been for the past five years.

The young dragon totters unsteadily to its feet, before turning a baleful eye at the young officer and the bucket of raw fish. The officer holds a tuna in one hand, and the young dragon pointedly turns its snout up and struts away with the grace of a newborn colt, accidentally sweeping the cushions away with its tail. It trips over the disturbed cushions and ends up falling on its face. Tezuka tries not to laugh out loud, but it is apparent that dragons have sensitive hearing; the hatchling looks around and stumbles in her direction.

She catches Sanada’s look of worry as he rushes to her side, but he’s not fast enough, the crowd is too thick, and they stare at it, _at her_ , as the dragon resolutely ignores the rows of decorated officers, the guardsmen lining the walls, the chosen aviator that is desperately waving an arm around, to cling to her kimono, dark tail wrapping around her calves.

Her favourite kimono is a lost cause, she notes, judging by the mucus stains left behind and the way it dug its relatively short talons into the patterned koi, hard enough for her to feel even through multiple swathes of fabric. 

“You laughed at me.” The room explodes with furious whispers, but Tezuka only has eyes for the dragon in front of her. It has gold eyes, and she is subjected to a stare not unlike her grandfather’s, when he caught her playing at swords.

“Yes I did.” There is no point in denying it. She stares steadily back.

“Hm. I’m hungry.” The dragon tilts its head. “Do you have anything to eat?”

“Here Tezuka-san!” The bucket of raw fish finds its way to her hands, and she looks around the room; at the young officer who looks all too keen to push feeding duty to her, the others with incredulity in their eyes, and more looking at her with open condescension. To Sanada who looks at her with something like horrified awe, a nightmare he has no chance of waking up from.   

The dragon’s gaze is the heaviest of all. Expectant. Curious. Hungry.

She holds the tuna with one hand, and she is pleased to note that it was only shaking minutely ( _show no weakness_ , she remembers her mother's words, _never let your guard down_ ) and feeds it to the dragon, who eagerly takes it from her hand. She feels its teeth scrape the skin of her palm, and shivers.

“What’s your name?” The dragon asks in-between bites of yellowtail.

“Tezuka. Tezuka Kunimitsu. What about you?” She belatedly remembers that captains are supposed to give their dragons names. “Do you want me to give you one?” She can hopefully think of a name that won’t shame her entire family, the dragon, and the Japan Aerial Forces in the next ten seconds.

The dragon licks its talons clean. “I already have one.” Horrified murmurs fill the room, and if she listens carefully Tezuka can hear the sound of Sanada groaning into his hands, but all Tezuka feels is relief.

“It’s Ryoma.” The dragon- _Ryoma_ smiles at her, teeth stained with fish blood, looking remarkably like a young boy. “Nice to meet you, _Captain_.”  

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thesis is over (yes i do realise that I'm starting every chapter note like this but hey sue me)
> 
> this has been sitting in my drafts for a really long time

“Let me get this straight- Tezuka Kunikazu’s sole granddaughter- his lone _unmarried_ granddaughter is our new captain?”

Yamato Yuudai gave a sheepish nod; Ryuzaki Sumire hardly appreciated the levity of his response, as the frown between her eyebrows became more pronounced.

“It’s not like we could do anything about it; it’s not like _anyone_ could do anything about it,” Yamato protested. No one could predict that the young dragonet would stumble all the way to Tezuka Kunimitsu and ask to be fed.

Dragons chose their captains and hardly ever changed their decisions; this was one of the first things he learnt growing up in the compound. Some dragons chose to wait until they were old enough to judge candidates, while others chose a captain fresh out of the shell. Some dragons (like the haughty silver middle-weight draped in diamonds, he remembers) refuse to choose a captain at all, but regardless, he has never heard of a dragon retracting his or her decision.

“Tell that to Tezuka Ayane.” Ryuzaki points to a letter on her desk; black ink striking against white paper, each stroke meticulously written and radiating parental disapproval, peppered with the scent of jasmine.

“I guess she’s not too pleased?”

“Of course she’s not pleased.” That was a grievous understatement, for Tezuka Ayane demanded, in kanji as sharp as her tongue, to know how _an entire platoon_ _of decorated officials_ managed to _accidentally_ let her only daughter bond herself to an American-Japanese dragon the size of her rocking chair.

“She probably expected her daughter to get engaged to a captain, not become one!”

“Yes and what should we do about that? If she was part of the Forces it wouldn’t matter, but she’s a civilian.”

“A civilian who happens to be nobility, who happens to have no idea how the Aerial Forces work. Can she even take hardship?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Ryuzaki rubs her temples; the headache she had been starving off since last night has come back with a vengeance, after she realised that no, the results of the harnessing were not a prank played by the officers to make fun of poor Horio, but were as real as the young dragonet currently stuffing itself in one of the pavilions, hand-fed by the cause of her headache.  

She should never take another day off to visit her granddaughter, if this is what comes out of it.

“The dragon adores her; he’s not going to change his mind. What did she name it?”

“She didn’t; apparently the dragon named itself.”

“This just keeps getting better and better. What’s next? Them flying without a harness?”

“She doesn’t seem to have a death wish.”

“We can’t send her away; we already don’t have enough dragons to spare.”

“So she’ll have to join us then. Better start that reply to Tezuka Ayane. Maybe Banji can help you if you read it out to him.”

Ryuzaki sighs and runs her fingers through her long hair.  Yamato notices the greying strands at her temples, silver in the morning light streaming through the window.

“I guess I don’t have a choice. Take Kazuya to meet the two of them. I want to know how…” Ryuzaki pauses, and Yamato waits for her to find her words. “... reliable, this new pair can be.”  

 “Got it.” Yamato stretches his arms, briefly rubbing at the faint outline of his scar. “I’ll go and visit Kazuya first.”

 -----

Kazuya is resting in his usual pavilion and he is accompanied by many smaller dragons that huddle into his side for warmth. Yamato whistles a jaunty tune as he approaches; his dragon opens a beady eye to stare at him.

“You sound happy.” Kazuya yawns, stretching his wings. The smaller dragons jolt awake and rapidly fly in a mad rush as Kazuya begins to rise. “Do we have a mission today?”

“Something like that, but first things first. Have you had breakfast yet? I could get Marui or Kawamura to make you something.”

Kazuya tilts his head and considers for a moment. “I would like roasted pork, if you can manage it. Stuffed with shiitake mushrooms.”

“Fair enough,” Yamato manages to get the attention of a runner and places Kazuya’s order.

“What’s our mission?” Kazuya asks as the runner flees to the kitchen in great haste to make sure the mighty Tokugawa-sama gets his meal as quickly as possible.

“Did you hear about the hatching yesterday?” Yamato begins.

 “That egg from the Americas hatched early… It was an Echizen wasn’t it?” Kazuya grumbles. “And Mori was saying he chose a civilian woman for a captain too. It’s troublesome.”

“You got it! News sure travels fast here.” Yamato smiles. “We’re supposed to go and talk to them- both of them. Ryuzaki wants to know how well they’ll do.”

He is greeted with Kazuya’s extremely unimpressed stare. “Breakfast first.” Kazuya demands, ruffling his wings.

“We could eat with them! I could tell the kitchens.” Yamato suggests.

“I’m not sharing my food with the hatchling. No matter what anyone says.”

“Of course not.” Yamato smiles indulgently. “Shall we?”

Kazuya sighs, and even the leaves on the tallest trees rustle in the wind. But he gets up and scoops Yamato in his talons, and with a beat of his wings, they go.

\-----

To Yamato’s surprise, that Tezuka girl is already present, feeding a dragon with fishes bigger than the ones given yesterday. They are in one of the southern pavilions more commonly used by hatchlings and young dragons, but most of the dragons have already left.

Both of them look up in shock as Kazuya descends right in front of them, buffeted by the resulting wind. Tezuka stands in front of the hatchling to shield it from the worst of it, but the dragon is nearly half as tall and twice as wide, and the updraft from Kazuya’s wings sends him is rolling on the grass.

“Ryoma are you alright?” Tezuka runs to her dragon.

“I’m fine.” The dragon- Ryoma apparently raises his head to glare at Kazuya. “What was that for?”

“Ryoma, don’t be rude.” Tezuka chatises. She bows to him, posture impeccable. “Good morning, I am Tezuka Kunimitsu.”

Yamato gives a cheery wave; he hasn’t bowed in years and he’s not going to start now. “I’m Yamato Yuudai, nice to meet you! And this is Kazuya.”

“He’s a Tokugawa” Yamato adds, and even civilians should know what it implies. One of the biggest dragon breeds in their army, named after the infamous samurai, famous for their prowess in battle and their intellect. Yamato could not be prouder of Kazuya, even if he likes to hang upside down from the mountainside during their casual flights and refuses to eat anything with sesame seasoning.

Kazuya lowers his head to better to look at the new pair, and Yamato is gratified to notice that the girl does not shirk away.

Her dragon, on the other hand, lets out a few angry chirps and promptly pushes his captain behind him. Kazuya snorts; and the gust of hot hair from his nostrils nearly sends Ryoma flying again, if not for Tezuka supporting his back.   

“Well I am Ryoma, and Tezuka is my captain, and you are not going to have my breakfast or my captain, so there.” Ryoma lets out a little sniff.

“I don’t want your breakfast or your captain.” If Kazuya were less taciturn he would roll his eyes. Hatchlings, honestly. “My breakfast is of a far superior quality. So is my captain for that matter.” Hearing that, Yamato smiles fondly.

Before the younger dragon could retort, Kawamura comes over, wheeling a platter of roasted beef, stuffed with mushrooms and red dates. Kazuya sits primly and puts on his special talon sheaths that he uses just for meals, and proceeds to ignore Ryoma and Tezuka gawking in front of him. Meanwhile, Kawamura unloads a barrel of soup and pours it into a dish made specifically for Kazuya.

“Why does he get cooked food?” Ryoma turns to his captain, stomach growling despite polishing off half their salmon stores. “I want cooked food too.”

“I’ll do my best Ryoma.” Tezuka turns to Yamato. “Is there a kitchen that cooks for dragons?”

Kawamura pipes out. “Yes, Tezuka-san, we prepare cooked food for dragons. What would Ryoma-san like to have?”

Ryoma shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Kazuya does roll his eyes at this, but thankfully Yamato is the only one who sees this.

Yamato decides to cut straight to the point.

“Tezuka-san, you do realise your circumstances are very unusual?”

“Yes, I had figured.” He senses sarcasm, but Tezuka’s face is unreadable.   

“Well what are you going to do? Are you going to join the Forces?”

Tezuka folds her arms across her chest, scrunching the long blue sleeves of her yukata.

“I cannot stay with Ryoma if I don’t, right?”

“You could visit occasionally! You don’t have to stay.” Before Yamato could say anything more Ryoma makes an alarmed squawk and wraps his tail around Tezuka’s body, pressing his snout to her neck, talons digging into her waist.

“No- you must stay with me.” If a dragon could pout, Ryoma would certainly be doing so. “If you are leaving then I’m leaving with you and I’ll just live in your garden forever with you.”

“Hush darling I’m not leaving you.” Tezuka strokes Ryoma’s snout. Ryoma, mollified, releases his grip on her and proceeds to glare at Yamato instead.

“Life in the Forces is not for the faint-hearted.” Kazuya growls out, voice rumbling in the distance. Swallowing the last of his beef, he continues. “Unless you are dead or permanently disabled, there is no way to leave.” Harsh but true.

“Marriage is not an option too, Tezuka-san.” Yamato adds. “Hardly anyone wants to marry an aviator.”

“Good.” He is surprised at the small smile on Tezuka’s face. It makes her look years younger. “I don’t particularly care to marry at the moment.” He feels a slight twinge of sympathy for Sanada.

“Why would she want to marry if she has me?” Ryoma says petulantly. “I’m sure I’m better than any husband she could have. Can any husband of hers fly? _I don’t think so.”_

“Your mother begs to differ.” Tezuka winces; she must have gotten the same missive stained with parental disapproval.

“My grandfather… isn’t opposed to the idea.” She says.

“Your mother is very opposed to the idea.” Yamato counters. “Sort that out first before you decide to stay.”

Tezuka pales; and Yamato takes pity on her.  “Most aviators are trained from birth. You are going to have a lot to catch up on Tezuka-san.” 

“She can do it.” Ryoma pipes up. “I’ll help her.”

“Says the dragonet with no understanding of war tactics and basic manners.” Kazuya said drolly. “You have a long way to go.” Ryoma bristles like an angry cat.

“We’ll work hard. Please give us a chance.” Tezuka bows low.

“We’ll see.” Yamato smiles enigmatically. “Kazuya, I think we can go now.”

Kazuya cleans the platter with one long lick and removes his talon sheathes for Kawamura to send to his crew for washing. “Let’s go then. I want to fly over the cliffs today.” He gives a polite nod to Tezuka and gathers Yamato in his claws. Ryoma huffs at the snub, but decides not to say anything. Probably because Kazuya’s one talon is bigger than his entire body, Yamato notes idly.

Tezuka bows low again, and Ryoma flicks his wings in a sarcastic wave goodbye, and Kazuya takes to the air in one powerful wingbeat, deliberately sending Ryoma rolling again. Yamato snickers.

\---

“So what do you think of them?” Yamato asks, once they are up in the air with no chance of being overheard.

“Humph.”

“That good?”

“He is a brat.  At least his captain seems more respectable.”

Yamato thinks of the way she shielded her dragon and how she stood her ground when Kazuya pressed his face close to hers; he recalls the futon lying in the pavilion next to Ryoma along with a mountain of blankets enough to cover a tiny dragonet, and smiles.

“I think they’ll do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave comments and kudos if liked!
> 
> (also that last word Captain is in English! because Ryoma's egg traveled from Britain to the Americas before landing in Japan)


End file.
